More Than A Memory
by Moony-Blues
Summary: Cain struggles to cope with losing his wife. OneShot.


More Than A Memory

* * *

He thrashed in his sleep, the nightmares coming again to haunt his rest. Her terrified face swam before his eyes and he couldn't do anything to save her. She screamed his name as he felt the cold closing in on him and heard the clang of metal striking metal as he was locked in a dungeon made for one. He pounded against the unyielding iron shell, pummeling it until his knuckles bled bright red, but he could only watch in despair as his wife was thrown to the ground, beaten and raped by the man he had once called his friend. He yelled his son's name as he was beaten by the others who had come to his home to destroy his world.

When he was shaken awake by a warm, familiar hand, Cain sprang up from the ground like a rocket taking flight. It took a moment to recognize the brown eyes looking at him, instantly glad that he hadn't had a knife within arms reach.

"You ok, Cain?" asked Glitch

"Fine," he said, not meeting the other man's gaze as he tried to shake the fuzziness from his mind. Glitch didn't say anything right away, and Cain took advantage of the opportunity to survey the campsite. He let out a breath of relief when he saw DG still curled up on his duster with Raw and Toto nearby, the latter having chosen to take his canine shape to keep warm. They were all sleeping soundly. Only Glitch had awakened at the sound of the former Tin Man's distressed sleep.

He turned back to the Zipperhead, who was giving him an appraising look. "I'm _fine_, Glitch," he said quietly so as to not disturb the other three. "Why are you awake?" he asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

"Nightmares of my own," said Glitch darkly. "Besides, someone needs to keep watch, and you fell asleep."

Cain finally registered that he actually had fallen asleep during his watch. The last thing he remembered was setting aside the branch he'd been whittling, trying unsuccessfully to ward off the memories. He must have drifted off amid the images. He shook himself again and turned back to Glitch.

"I'll take watch again," he said gruffly.

"Cain, you're going to have to deal with it eventually—"

"No time," came the tired reply. Glitch didn't say anything, but just looked into Cain's stormy eyes. After a few seconds, he nodded, then turned and tried to find a soft enough piece of ground to sleep on.

Three months later, he stood next to his son and watched as their old cabin burned. After the Eclipse, he'd stayed with DG just long enough to make sure that she would be alright. Cain had refused the Queen's offer of the permanent security detail for the younger princess. His flat "no" had caused her eyebrows to rise, but she didn't ask for any reasons. He had agreed, however, to stay on hand until someone else could be found. It had taken a while to find a suitable replacement for her security detail, but the job had officially gone to one of Jeb's men in the end. He suspected that they had delayed naming a replacement, hoping that he'd change his mind, but he'd called their game and eventually found the man himself.

He'd left the Palace at Finaqua without saying goodbye to her. He felt slightly guilty for it, but not guilty enough to apologize. The pieces of his own life had to be picked up and dealt with. The first of those pieces was the dilapidated cabin. It had been beyond repair. Jeb had come with him to clean out what worldly possessions were still inside and could be salvaged. The two men had then set fire to the rest, razing the ruin so the ashes could be swept from the packed-dirt foundation and another cabin built on it. Wyatt only wished that his memories could be disposed of so easily.

The Iron Maiden had been removed from their lawn by the newly commissioned Royal Army. All that remained to remind him of it was a hole in the ground that he would be filling in with loose dirt. When he returned in the spring to build another home, he wouldn't have to look at a monolith to his broken life.

Cain stretched his hands out toward the blaze, trying to warm them slightly against the chill of the on-coming winter. Jeb stamped his feet beside his father, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.

"What are you going to do until spring, Dad?" he asked, only loud enough to be heard over the crackle of the fire.

"I'll be in Central City," Wyatt said. "The Queen wouldn't let me turn down her reward for helping DG, so I'm going to use it on rent until the weather warms enough."

"Why don't you go back to the Palace?" asked the younger Cain.

"There's no place for me there." There was an edge to his father's voice that Jeb tried to ignore. He made a mental note to try and check on him as often as he could, duties permitting.

Wyatt had tried, really tried, to deal with it all. Losing eight annuals of his life, being forced to spend those eight annuals forced to watch as his family was tortured and abused, losing the love of his life only hours after he'd learned that she had survived…it was enough to drive any man to the bottom of a bottle. Even a Tin Man couldn't escape that inevitability. He eventually failed, especially after he hadn't heard from his son for most of the winter.

Jeb started mentally kicking himself when he finally found his father's apartment. He should have tried harder during the winter to get away from his duties. At the end of those four months, he'd only seen his father once, and only a week after they'd burned the cabin. He'd been outside for five minutes, banging as loudly as he could on the door. After breaking it in, he stomped back to the bedroom and found Wyatt sprawled out on his bed, bottle still in hand. After a few unsuccessful attempts to wake him, Jeb went back to the small kitchenette and filled a tankard with water and brought it into the bedroom, throwing it on the sleeping man.

Only after Wyatt roared out of his sleep, kicking over a nearby chair, did Jeb get a good look at his father. He looked horrible. Blood-shot eyes peered at him through a hung-over stupor. He hadn't shaved in a while, his clothes were filthy, and he reeked to high heaven. Jeb glared right back at Wyatt, whose contemptuous eyes could have killed.

"So," said Wyatt, slightly slurring his words over a tongue that still felt thick and heavy, "you finally decided to care enough for your old man to try and save him…too bad you're more than eight annuals late." Jeb offered no reply, but kept his glare firmly fixed on his father. Wyatt continued: "You know, if you'd just come back to the cabin to take out that damn pin, she'd probably be alive right now!" Again, Wyatt wasn't given the satisfaction of a reply from his son, who knew enough to recognize the booze talking. "Why _didn't_ you come back, huh? All you had to do was take out the pin. There was no lock, no magical field around the can, just a pin! A _girl_ had to come along and let me out…a 100-pound _girl_."

Jeb watched as his father's face contorted with rage and contempt. He said nothing, offered no explanations. He didn't even know why he hadn't gone back to the homestead. The younger man just stood there, his hazel eyes never breaking from his father's blues. His expression only softened after Wyatt's shoulders began to shake with silent sobs as the anger gave way to a deep grief.

Wyatt sank to the floor, unable to stand any longer. He hadn't let himself cry in the seven months since he'd found Adora's grave, hadn't surrendered to the pain, hadn't let it get the better of him. But now…he couldn't fight it anymore. He barely registered his son's hand on his shoulder. All he knew was that he physically hurt. His arms ached to hold her. His heart screamed in agony because she wasn't there. His eyes burned from trying to imagine her beautiful face again.

He had dreamed of her often. They started off as happy dreams…their wedding day and honeymoon, the day she had accepted his proposal and made him the happiest man on earth, or the day she'd beamed up at him when she'd told him he was going to be a father. But they always dissolved into nightmares. She was a ghost that haunted his waking hours and a phantom in his dreams. She was always more than a memory.

He didn't know how long he cried. He only felt the headache from his hangover compound with the pain from the tears. Slowly, he came back to reality and remembered that his son was still there. He put a calloused hand over the one on his shoulder, not able to vocalize his apology. The firm squeeze on his shoulder told him he didn't need to.

Another annual passed. Slowly, his grief receded. Many people had told him that he'd get over it in time, but he hadn't believed them. He'd gone back to build another cabin on the homestead. The Queen had given hefty compensations to anyone who had survived the Iron Maiden, calling it justice for those who had endured the Sorceress' most evil torture. He had set aside the money, which was more than enough for him to live on for the rest of his days. He mostly lived off his land, hunting in the forest and tending a small garden.

Sometimes, he would return to Central City and stand in front of the house where she'd lived with her parents before they'd married, trying to remember the light in her eyes when she was happy. He was told often that he would forget, but he didn't want to forget. He never wanted to forget.

* * *

Author's Notes: Ok…the angst muse has a hold on me again. I was listening to the radio on the way home from class last night when this song came on and I thought it would make a perfect Cain/Adora piece. It's based on "More Than A Memory" by Garth Brooks. I was thinking about saving it until I was done with my Cain back story, because it's a kind of sequel/follow-up, but I figured I'd be charitable. Reviews are always welcome. If you want a happier Cain/Adora story, check out "Brighter Days," and make sure to review it if you like it. The muse for that one is emaciated, it's so underfed.

Lyrics:

_People say she's only in my head  
__It's gonna take time but I'll forget  
__They say I need to get on with my life  
__But they don't realize_

_When you're dialing six numbers just to hang up the phone  
__Driving across town just to see if she's home  
__Waking a friend in the dead of night  
__Just to hear him say its gonna be alright  
__When you find things to do not to fall asleep  
__'Cause you know she'll be there in your dreams  
__That's when she's more than a memory_

_Took a match to everything she ever wrote  
__Watched her words go up in smoke  
__Tore all her pictures off the wall  
__That ain't helping me at all _

_'Cause when you're talking out loud and nobody's there  
__You look like hell and you just don't care  
__Drinking more than you ever drank  
__Sinking down lower than you ever sank  
__When you find yourself falling down on your knees  
__Praying to God, begging him please  
__That's when she's more than a memory_

_She's more  
__She's more_

_'Cause when you're dialing her number just to hang up the phone  
__Driving across town just to see if she's home  
__Waking a friend in the dead of night  
__Just to hear him say it's gonna be alright  
__When you're finding things to do not to fall asleep  
__'Cause you know she's waiting in your dreams  
__That's when she's more than a memory _

_People say she's only in my head  
__It's gonna take time but I'll forget_


End file.
